Married Man Discovers His Flexuality

The Secret (Sex) Life of A Middle-Aged Married Man
Rex Oso
October 6, 2011
Huffington Post

Thanks to a reader of the blog for tipping me off to this post by a man who has fallen in love with another man late in his marriage.

Visit the archives to see all Flexuality posts!

After Track

Maria and I had not been particularly friendly before the season started. She hung out with a different group of girls, and even on the field, we were just competitive at first. But competition turned into admiration, and within a few weeks we were seeking each other out in the locker room or going out for pizza after practice. I’d never had a friend like Maria before; she talked faster and laughed freely and couldn’t care less about shopping at the mall or dating.

One night at the pizza parlour, I got a cramp in my leg and was squirming in the bench. I was probably dehydrated from practice. Maria looked at me with concern and then said, “Give it here.” She grabbed my ankle under the table, pulled off my sneaker, pushed my toes back with one hand in her lap, and squeezed the back of my thigh through my jeans with her other hand. She did it so casually, no one who was looking would have even noticed. I found myself staring at her with amazement as her fingers pushed apart the knot in my muscles, but she was looking down, either in embarrassment or concentration.

“I owe you a massage,” I said as she finished and lowered my leg.

She took me up on the offer that weekend, when we were hanging out in my room, though she brought it up hesitantly.

“I remember,” I said, putting away my homework. “Take off those pants and lie down on the bed.”

She turned her back to me and stepped out of her jeans, pulled her shirt over her head, and took off her bra. “Okay?” she asked, sitting down on the mattress and looking at the floor.

I put my hand on her shoulder and nudged her to lie down. Then I reached down to take off my shoes and added, “I’m going to make myself comfortable too.” Down to my underwear, I sat across her legs, put my hands on her back, and waited, feeling her chest rise and lower with her breathing.

She turned her head and smiled. “You got any massage oil?”

One in Three

The summer after my junior year in college, we got together for pizza and beer in my parent’s backyard. I hadn’t seen Brad and Jason since Thanksgiving, when my girlfriend at the time was visiting. But now it was just the three of us, like in high school.

After a few drinks, the conversation turned to sex, and Brad did what he does best, showing off some bit of knowledge and putting us on the defensive. He had taken a course on human sexuality to satisfy his college science requirement. “And did you know,” he said, leaning forward over his beer, “That one out of every three men has had sex with another man?” He looked Jason in the eye. “That means, statistically speaking, one of us right here has fucked around with a guy.”

We were all silent for a moment, holding tightly onto our Buds. What a conversation stopper.

Jason was the straightest guy I knew, always bragging about screwing some girl, though he never held onto them for long. And Brad had dated the same girl since high school. We were always stumbling on the two of them having sex behind a tree or in a closet. You could say he was twisted, but he sure as hell wasn’t gay.

“So boys, which one of us has done it?” Brad continued, safe from scrutiny and not letting us off the hook.

I started to sweat.

These guys were my best friends, but I had never told them about the time I fooled around with a frat mate in sophomore year. We got drunk after soccer practice and ended up showering together back at the house, when no one else was around. It started with touching and teasing, and then we ended up in his bed, giving each other head. It never happened again, but I knew I’d do it again with a guy if I had the opportunity. For a couple weeks afterwards I even worried that I might be gay, which was stupid, because I’ve always liked girls and planned to get married.

Could Brad and Jason see that I was the one? I leaned back to take another drink and banged my head against the wind chimes hanging from the rafters of the porch, spilling beer across my chin. I blushed and looked away.

“Don’t be an ass,” Jason said. “None of us is gay.” He looked at me and back at Brad. “And nobody here has fucked a guy. You’ve got a sick mind, man.”

Picking up Popcorn

The other guys went home around midnight, but Tad told me he would stick around and help me clean up, which I really appreciated, because I was pretty stoned and the place would stink if I left it till the morning. There were cans of beer lying on their side on the floor and nuts and popcorn slipping into the cracks of the sofa. When we had nearly finished and were moving a table back into the kitchen, Tad asked me about Bobby, who had been making loud, obnoxious comments about all the girls in the movie: how he’d like to fuck this one or that one, how big her boobs were, and stuff like that.

“The thing is,” Tad said, “I had this experience last year with Bobby. We were at Jessica’s party, and when I went to pee, he sort of pushed his way into the bathroom behind me. He said he couldn’t wait, unzipped, and started pissing into the bowl while I was using it. I didn’t mind, but then he started playing around, crossing the streams and moaning like it was something sexual. We’d had a lot of beer, so this went on for a while, and I noticed his dick was getting bigger. After he shook it off, he pushed his underwear down and asked me to suck him off.”

Tad paused, like he was waiting for my reaction.

“So did you?”

“No, of course not.” He flashed an annoyed look. “He wasn’t kidding either. He was getting really hard. I told him he was drunk and got out of there fast.” Tad looked up at me. “Do I look like I’m gay, or something?”

I reached into the fridge, popped open another can of beer, and handed it to him. We were standing just a foot or two apart. “I don’t think gay is a way you look.”

He looked annoyed again, shifting back and forth and clenching his teeth in what could have been a smile or a frown. Finally he asked me, “What would you have done?”

I held his gaze and thought about my answer. “Well, I don’t like Bobby very much.”

He held out the beer and smiled. “So you might have, if it was somebody else?”

I let my fingers brush against his as I took the beer back and had a cold swig, looking into his eyes the whole time. “I’d give it a try, with the right person.”

Sweet Fruit

Even though we couldn’t keep our eyes off each other on the base, I was nervous when I finally walked over to Jackie’s room to get her for the movie. I’d never been on a date with a woman before, and I had no idea what two women were supposed to do in bed. It couldn’t be anything like having sex with a man, unless she had one of those strap-on things, and that would be just ridiculous and anyway out of the question in the dormitory. I told myself not to worry. We were going off base, and if I could just hold her hand during the movie, that would be enough.

I had butterflies in my stomach as I knocked and heard her footsteps approaching from the other side. My cheeks were suddenly hot, and my mouth was dry. She opened the door, still wearing fatigues. We just stood there, smiling at each other like idiots. Then she took hold of me by the wrist and pulled me inside, closed the door, and pressed me up against the wall.

There was no talking and no kissing, at least not on the lips. She dropped down in front of me and pulled my panties down from under my skirt and pushed my skirt up with both hands and dug in with her tongue. I was still too shocked to do anything but lean my shoulders back against the wall and tilt my legs to give her room. She slid a finger into me, or two, while nuzzling and tugging with her lips. Her whole face was slippery against me now, and I put my hands on her braids and pulled her tight as my legs started shaking uncontrollably.

And then we lay down on her bed for more. We never did make it to the movie. In fact, I don’t think we even took a break for dinner. Thank god her roommate was on leave.